


wlwzombies (affectionate draft title)

by dragonfruit2



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, Science Fiction, Zombies, mlm, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfruit2/pseuds/dragonfruit2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a WIP that I've been planning for months. I'm still tweaking parts of it as I go and developing some characters even further. I'll update sporadically, whenever I'm happy with new passages.<br/>Enjoy and please give feedback, it's really appreciated!</p><p>Living alone, Marty has many regrets about her (ongoing) failures with relationships both platonic, romantic and familial.<br/>Marty catches two young men raiding her home just the morning after she watches a young girl have her throat torn out by a dazed stranger.<br/>Amidst the chaos that ensues, Marty meets Grace, a pretty blonde, and desperately flirts with her between bouts of faintness at the sight of gore.<br/>Chuck calls them zombies - but nobody else wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wlwzombies (affectionate draft title)

Marty had a twisting, writhing, deep feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. She knew it could make for disturbed sleep if she kept it. She shut her eyes, compensating for the protruding beam of streetlamps outside, and sought out other things to think about, to try to distract herself from the feeling and to secure sweet dreaming.  
She opened her eyes again, gazed at her hands through the imprecise darkness and thought about her mother.  
Her mother; her tired, forgiving smile, partnered with a constant wistful look in her eyes. She was meekly supportive, and a gentle force in Marty's life that she never really appreciated.  
Marty missed her. She even missed the silent, but still stinging, air of disappointment she would give off, and missed her lenient scolding. Regretfully, they hadn't kept in touch the months (or much in the years either, admittedly) before she died.  


Attempting to calm her ominous feeling had failed, and the feeling stayed with her through the night.  


She fell asleep with this faint dread and woke up with the same - but it wasn't faint now. It quickly escelated to alarm at wailing from beneath her window. It was full of pain.  
She didn't recognize the voice of whoever was wailing. Did she have to recognize it to be scared? Too scared to look? She willed herself to overcome it. After all, someone could have really been hurt and in need of help she could give. So, she knelt on her mattress and reached to draw the curtains with unsteady hands.  
The screaming quieted, replaced by desparate spluttering.  
Her eyes ached and, looking accidentally into the head of a streetlamp, she was blinded for a moment, but through the shock she spotted someone's figure. She blinked and foolishly hoped her eyes would adjust quickly. When they did, she kept blinking. Perhaps what was happening would go away eventually?  
Somebody was staggering out there, blood gushing and spraying from an open wound on their neck. Marty saw that it was a girl, with skin so pale it nearly glowed in the darkness. The blood was pouring from her mouth too, it was staining her white skin and she was clearly choking on it.  
Her hands slid weakly against the wound. Perhaps she was trying to wipe the gore away in disbelief, but still it came.  


Somebody was watching her. Somebody with a lump of flesh in their mouth, weeping red.  
They came closer and she gurgled helplessly as they ripped away chunk after chunk of her flesh, barely chewing some, and carelessly dropping others. What the hell was going on?  
The girl feebly struggled and squeaked in protest before she went limp in submission. The perpetrator was satisfied now, and they stumbled onwards with their clothes and face drenched in red.  


Marty felt sick. She was stupified. She didn't move to help the girl. Instead, a neighbour from across the street clambered to her aid; shouting and soon checking for a pulse Marty assumed wouldn't be there. At least somebody was brave enough to help, she thought, through the alarms going off in her mind.  


As her neighbour leant over the girl and put their ear to her mouth (to check fruitlessly for breathing, Marty thought), her eyes suddenly opened. She dragged her eyes, sluggishly, to the person kneeling over her. Her movements suddenly sped up as she sank her teeth into the side of their head. They howled.  
Marty shut the curtains. She breathed for a moment, before peeking at the scene again, but evidently the breathing wasn't enough to prepare her for what she saw.  
Her limbs went weak; she gasped at the sight of warm blood and meat on the tarmac. Her vision became tunnelled and blurred - blackening, blackening, blackening until she lost consciousness entirely.


End file.
